


Stand Under My Umbrella

by Crollalanza



Series: Iwaoi - Philos Series [11]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: “What is it with you and umbrellas? Why don’t they last?”“Because I use them, I expect,” Oikawa drawled. He began to jog, catching up with Hajime as the rain beat faster around them, and linked arms. “Come on, we can keep dry under this, get pork buns and munch them in the rain.”Before he could protest, Hajime found himself being dragged halfway up the street while Oikawa chatted about inconsequentials. They bumped shoulders and again Hajime stumbled, but instead of sending Oikawa flying, Oikawa stayed on his feet, and steadied Hajime, his hand under his elbow.“Are you all right, Iwa-chan?” He sounded solicitous. Genuine.The rain was pattering around them, sploshing wet patches on the dry paving stones, a mother with two girls trundled past, chivvying her daughters to hurry home out of the wet, but all Hajime was aware of were the raindrops scattered like diamonds in Oikawa’s hair.Legend has it in the Iwaizumi house that it always rains on Hajime's birthday. These four occasions make no break with tradition.





	Stand Under My Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Iwaizumi Hajime's birthday, and it's late (sorry bby). It takes place in the Philos universe, and links to Icarus.

****

**Age Five**

It was only a little bit cloudy, the blue and white patchworking the sky, giving hope that the day would turn out fine. Not that Hajime cared about rain, but his parents had promised him a picnic tea in the park for his birthday—Daddy was even coming home early from work—and if it was wet then he might have to stay indoors.

 “Stinky clouds!”

A pair of arms wrapped around him. “Rain, rain, go away, come again another day,” Mummy whispered, and pecked him on the cheek.

“If it rains, we can still have a kick around,” Daddy said, wandering in already loosening his tie. “We won’t dissolve in a bit of water.”

“Tell that to the Wicked Witch of the West,” Mummy laughed.

Hajime frowned, not understanding who Mummy was talking about, unless it was Okisawa-san who lived two floors below them and poked him with her cane whenever he walked past.

He looked up, tilting his head at ninety degrees so he could see both of them, “We are still going to the park, aren’t we?”

“Of course, Hajime-chan,” Mummy soothed, and ruffled his hair. “Go and find your jacket, just in case, though.”

He scampered out of the room, but not before he saw Daddy slip his hands to Mummy’s waist. “It rained the day he was born,” he said. “Do you remember that journey to the hospital?”

“Well, I was there,” she teased, “but rather preoccupied.”

 

His Mum, he remembered, had asked if he’d wanted any friends to join them in the park, and he’d said no. He’d been happy his Dad had made it, wanting it just to be the three of them. The grass had been damp underfoot, but they’d still sat on a picnic rug, munched through onigiri rolls and then cupcakes before the rain had started to spit. Yet, instead of packing everything away and making a dash to the car, they’d stayed in the park running races and kicking a football around.

“Mummy’s so fast!” Hajime had yelped, a little jealous at her speed when she passed both him and his Dad.

“Mummy used to sprint for the school,” his Dad had whispered, then grasped Hajime’s hand “She’s as fast as the wind!”

“Did you run with her?”

“Nope.”  Still clutching hands, they’d run together, catching up to his Mum. “I yelled a lot in the stands watching her.”

 

 

**Age Ten**

It was, Hajime decided, the most irritating song Tooru had ever sung. The trouble was that as soon as he’d heard it, Tooru had latched onto the lyrics repeating the ‘eh eh eh’  and giving a wink because the first time he’d done it, several of the girls in their class had turned round, and gone ‘ka ka’ over Oikawa Tooru _again_.

(Even their sensei had been a little bit dazzled, Hajime remembered.)

And of course it was raining outside their classroom, drops splattering on the windowpane, which was why Oikawa had begun to sing, and Hajime scowled as they left  because no one … absolutely no one … wanted rotten weather on their birthday.

“Why so grumpy, Iwa-chan?” Tooru laughed, and running ahead as he splashed in puddles, he stopped to swing around a lamppost, beatific smile on his face even as his socks got wet.

“I’m not!” Hajime retorted, and tried to unknit his brows, but the skies looked black and he knew—he just knew—it was going to rain again. “We’re supposed to be going to the park for a picnic. Mum won’t want to go with the twins.”

“It’s only rain. We could sit under cover,” Tooru soothed. “Maybe Iwa-chan-okasan will let us carry the food ourselves.” He smiled again, glancing up and the skies. “Look! There’s a patch of blue, and I’m sure it’s getting bigger.” And he started to sing again, repeating the lyrics of the song that had blared out of the radio all week, words that Tooru sang with clarity, but Hajime couldn’t quite understand.

(There was something about friends in it, he knew, and Tooru mentioned the word ‘forever’ giving Hajime a hug before getting pushed away, but that was it. A dumb song about a dumb umbrella, typical that Tooru would like it.)

It wasn’t that he disliked the rain particularly, rather the paraphernalia that attached itself to the weather: the plastic coats, wellington boots, hats with elastic twanging under his chin, and, of course, umbrellas. He hated umbrellas particularly, hated having to carry one because his arm ached, and the accompanying yells of ‘look where you’re going’, when forced to share an umbrella and ending up half-wet. And it was no better when he disposed of the umbrella and had to chicane his way along the street to avoid the spokes threatening to poke his eye out.

But perhaps Tooru was right. Maybe the patch of blue was enough for the sun to reappear and scorch away the clouds, maybe the dark grey would fade to white and they could all go to the park, have a birthday tea with cake sitting on the grass, before sloping home for a DVD and a sleepover.

Something wet plopped on his nose. He brushed it away without thinking, but before he’d finished another drop fell, then another, and the blue patch of sky disappeared as the clouds merged into a darker grey, almost black, oppressive and threatening to two boys wending their way home.

“I have this!” Tooru pulled out an umbrella, one of the see-through ones that he could pull down across his shoulders and see out of (except for the green aliens on alternate panels) “We can always share.”

He agreed because Tooru had offered, and he wasn’t sure his Mum would be best pleased if she realised he’d left his hat at home, and they began the awkward squashed walk home, as if they were pacing out a threelegged race, their shoulders bumping into each other. A drip, from somewhere in the centre of the brolly, dripped down Hajime’s neck, which he swatted irritably with his hand. Then Tooru trod on Hajime’s lace, he stumbled, grabbed Tooru’s arm and they both went flying.

Letting go of the umbrella, Tooru shrieked (delight or horror, Hajime never found out) when the wind gusted it across the road, then scooped it higher until it caught itself on a tree branch and dangled, tauntingly too high out of reach for both of them.

“I’ll get it,” Hajime muttered, and wondered whether to throw a book up and try to dislodge it.  But Tooru wasn’t listening. Instead he’d stayed on the ground, smack in the centre of a puddle and was examining his knee.

“I’m bleeding,” he said, squeezing the skin together. The blood mingled with the rain and trickled down his knee, and Tooru watched, fascinated with its progression.

“Mum’ll have plasters,” Hajime said and turned his back to the tree and the recalcitrant umbrella because they were both wet now, so what was the point? “Let’s go.” He scowled at the clouds, then reached out to help Tooru to his feet.

“The cake would get soggy,” Tooru said.

“Huh?”

“If we went to the park,” Tooru replied, and shook his head as if wondering how Hajime’s thoughts hadn’t kept up with his. “Maybe we can have a picnic in your room instead.”

“Sorry about your umbrella.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. There were holes in it anyway. I tried to patch it with sellotape.  Neesan told me it wouldn’t work.” He pouted.  “I guess she was right.”

His mum greeted them with a sigh and a roll of her eyes (she might have yelled if Tooru hadn’t been there) but insisted they get out of their wet clothes. She fussed (but not much) over Tooru’s grazed knee, promising him a plaster but only after he’d had a shower. Taking the second turn, Hajime saw the bundle of discarded uniform, kicked it to the side, and entered the now lukewarm shower.  He wasn’t in it long enough to mind the water not being hot, just a quick wash to get the mud off, and then scrubbing himself dry with a towel before changing into dry clothes.

His favourite t shirt wasn’t there (red with a dragon, not that he ever said he had a favourite shirt because favourites were for babies) so he pulled on a plain blue one instead, then scooped up both sets of discarded wet clothes and dumped them in the laundry basket.

Bedecked in Hajime’s red shirt, and also a pair of his black shorts, Tooru was sitting in the kitchen, while his Mum cleaned his knee.

“How did you fall over?” she was asking. “You weren’t fighting, were you?”

“Sharing an umbrella,” Tooru replied, creasing his brow as he thought. “I tripped over Iwa-chan’s leg. Or maybe he tripped over mine.”

“I didn’t see an umbrella.”

“It blew away,” Hajime said, emerging. “Tooru let go of it and it’s stuck in a tree.” He chewed his lip. “I couldn’t get it back. I did try.”

“We’ll buy you another, Tooru-chan.”

“It was leaking anyway.” Tooru shrugged. “I meant to bring a different one.”

“You’re very well prepared,” Hajime’s mum said, and after patting his knee dry, she smoothed on a plaster.

“Iwa-chan says it always rains on his birthday,” Tooru replied as if that was the answer. Then he glanced out of the window, watching as the rain beat against the window pane. “My umbe-rella-ella-ella eh eh eh!”

“Eh Eh Eh!” intoned Hajime’s brothers, scampering in from their sitting room.

_What a dumb song,_ Hajime thought. _Who cares about a stupid umbrella?_

“Oi,” he said instead. “That’s my t shirt!”

Tooru drew his brows together and scrunched up his nose. “I’m Iwa-chan,” he growled at Koji and Saburo. “I’m grumpy all the time!”

Annoyingly everyone laughed … even Hajime.

 

**Age Fifteen**

Because his birthday was on a Wednesday, Hajime was having a party (nothing flash, just volleyball and burgers) on the Saturday afterwards. But for his actual birthday, he was doing the same as he’d done since he was ten, and invited Oikawa over for a sleepover. There was no one else he wanted over, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted Oikawa’s company right now because—unaccountably and without any warning—things between them had changed.

“It’s going to rain,” Oikawa said, looking moodily at the sky.

“Always does,” Hajime muttered and kicked a piece of gravel across the pavement. “Look, you don’t have to come over, you know. If you’re not feeling right then—”

“Not feeling right?” Oikawa blinked and jerked his attention away from the clouds and to Hajime. “What is Iwa-chan talking about?”

“You’ve been … I dunno, odd recently,” Hajime mumbled. “Thought maybe this was … that you … You don’t have to come, that’s all I’m saying.”

_If you’re uncomfortable around me,_ was what he didn’t say.

“Oh … no, no, it’s not you,” Oikawa assured him, stopping to pull on Hajime’s sleeve. He let out a breath. “Inter Highs start soon.”

“Yeah, I know.”

_But you’re usually excited about them, not … not like this. Not brooding._

“I want to beat Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa muttered.

“Yeah, sure. So do I.”

“I know.” Oikawa plodded on for a few steps.

“What’s the matter?”

“Tobio-chan.”

_Who?_   Oh, Kageyama, new kid in the first year. “What about him?”

“I heard the coaches talking about him. They think he should be a Setter.”

“But you’re the Setter.”

“For now.”

“The _best_ Setter,” Hajime qualified.

Oikawa stared up at the gloomy sky, and Hajime watched as a large drop of rain plopped directly onto Oikawa’s chin. He snorted and rubbed it away with his sleeve.

“Why _does_ it always rain on your birthday, Iwa-chan? Have you upset the weather gods?”  And he smiled, his dark mood lifting even as the storm clouds gathered.

Turning up the collar of his blazer, Hajime increased his pace. The plan was to get home, get changed, maybe spike a few tosses in the park, then back for dinner when Hajime’s Dad got home.

“C’mon!” Hajime called out.

But Oikawa dawdled, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “I’ve got my ‘Um-be-rella-ella-ella, Iwa-chan,” he sang.

“If we run we won’t need to use it!” Hajime yelled back.

 “I said I’d treat you to pork buns, remember?” he said, and triumphantly popped open his umbrella, navy with white flowers daubed over it, and not his space one.

“What the heck is that?”

“Mum got it free with a magazine,” Oikawa replied. “My galaxy one broke.”

“What is it with you and umbrellas? Why don’t they last?”

“Because I use them, I expect,” Oikawa drawled. He began to jog, catching up with Hajime as the rain beat faster around them, and linked arms. “Come on, we can keep dry under this, get pork buns and munch them in the rain.”

Before he could protest, Hajime found himself being dragged halfway up the street while Oikawa chatted about inconsequentials. They bumped shoulders and again Hajime stumbled, but instead of sending Oikawa flying, Oikawa stayed on his feet, and steadied Hajime, his hand under his elbow.

“Are you all right, Iwa-chan?” He sounded solicitous. Genuine.

The rain was pattering around them, sploshing wet patches on the dry paving stones, a mother with two girls trundled past, chivvying her daughters to hurry home out of the wet, but all Hajime was aware of were raindrops scattered like diamonds in Oikawa’s hair.

 “Did you hurt your ankle?”

“Huh?” He shook his head, shaking away the images careening through his head, of Oikawa’s hair, the upturned corners of his mouth and the hand now lessening its grip on his elbow.

“We can go slowly,” Oikawa said. “Lean on me and I’ll help.”

“No … Oikawa, I’m fine. It’s …” He swallowed, or tried to, but his throat was dry, fear scratching at him, and he pulled away far more harshly than he’d intended.  “It doesn’t hurt. Can we go?”

“Pork buns?”

“Uh…”

“Please, Iwa-chan. I’d like to treat you, and it’s nice just being us for a while, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

And that was the problem. At least for Hajime, and the budding emotions, swirling a tumult inside of him that threatened to erupt at the oddest of moments.

They shared the umbrella, but not as close this time, and with rain dripping down half their faces, Oikawa returned to fretting over Kageyama.

“Sorry,” he said when they reached the cafe. “It’s your birthday and I’m rattling on about volleyball and Tobio-chan.”

“S’fine,” Hajime replied, grateful that his breath had returned to normal.

“You are a good friend,” Oikawa continued, and smiled. “My best friend … forever.” There was a glint in his eye.  “Under my um-be-rella-ella-ell-”

“Shaddup,” Hajime said, and pushed him away.

 

**Age Twenty**

He could hear the rain before he’d registered it was morning. And although he wanted to sleep, knew that today of all days he had a right to a lie in, now he’d heard the deluge outside, his eyes prickled open.

He fumbled for his phone.

_Ughh, it’s not even six._

Last year it had been sunny all day, not a drop of rain anywhere in Miyagi. _It’s a miracle_ , his dad had teased, then recounted the story of a drive to the hospital, his wife in the back seat, screaming at him to get there, and the rain falling in sheets around them until the windscreen wipers caused more blur than clarity.

“And then we drove through a very deep puddle and the engine flooded.”

_Yeah, yeah,_ Hajime had tried not to yawn.

“How did you get to the hospital then?” Koji had asked, far more interested than Saburo.

“A kind couple drove past, she got in and steered, while her husband and I pushed the car. Your mother was having a lie down.” He laughed as he dodged the slap to his head. “And do you know what?”

“What?” Koji was agog.

“As soon as we were out of the puddle, the rain stopped and we had a clear run to the hospital. Of course, my feet were wet, shoes soaked through. Not sure they ever recovered.” He was still chuckling and shaking his head when he’d left for work. “I’m taking a brolly. It could well be a new chapter in your life, but I can’t risk it, Hajime-chan, the weather gods love you!”

For his nineteenth birthday, the rain had _finally_ stayed away. A new chapter, perhaps, but Hajime’s world had crashed around him.

_Don’t think about that now. It’s not important anymore._

The pork buns Oikawa had bought when he turned fifteen had steamed in the rain, but under Oikawa’s umbrella, they’d stayed dry enough. And the conversation, once Oikawa had some food inside of him, had steered away from the upstart Setter, and towards their plans for the future.

“Aobajousai have their open day after the Inter-Highs,” Oikawa had informed him.

“Yeah, I know.” His dad had already booked a day off to go with him. He bit into the hot bun, then spluttered as it scorched his mouth.

“Their uniform is cream and lilac, Iwa-chan, so you’ll have to learn not to drop your food down it,” Oikawa had teased, then yelped when Hajime had shoved him.

“It’s my birthday, stop taking the piss!”

“I could buy you a bib,” Oikawa had retorted, dodging away to leave Hajime in the rain. “Or maybe an umbrella. Eh Eh Eh!”

“Don’t start!” Hajime howled, but he was laughing.

 

_(He clears away your clouds and makes you smile, Hajime-chan,_ his mum had once whispered _. He’s a good friend, so make up with him, won’t you?_

He’d forgotten what the argument had been about, but there’d been many over the years, brief squalls usually, the occasional downpours, yet relatively few thunderstorms.

And just the one tsunami that had nearly devastated his world.)

 

Tooru had been laughing so much as they ate a picnic on the rug in his bedroom, that he’d dropped food all over the red shirt, splattering the dragon wings with sesame sauce.

It was oily, and his Mum had never quite been able to remove the stain, so Hajime’s favourite shirt became relegated to one he wore when he knew he was going to get dirty.

But he’d given Hajime a green Godzilla shirt for his birthday, which remained his favourite for years after.

 

 Outside the wind had picked up, blowing a hoolie against the windows. Hajime closed his eyes, trying in vain to block out the noise.

_Wonder if it could blow the roof off?  Maybe the bed will go flying through the air._ The thought swept through him, and then he chuckled.

“Wicked Witch of the West, of course.”

 

An arm landed on him, somewhere just above his waist. “Hmm? What was that, Iwa-chan?”

“Nothing, go back to sleep.”

“It’s raining.” Tooru snuggled closer, still sleepy. “Happy Birthday. Good job we went shopping yesterday.”

“Why’s that?” Hajime propped himself up on his elbow, and gazed down at Tooru, watching as he yawned before replying, rather relieved that Tooru, for all his beauty, could look as puffy and morning-faced as everyone else when sleep deprived.

“Becau- ohh, I need to stop yawning.” He opened his eyes, stared blearily up at Hajime, and then smiled. “Guess what I left at college after practise.”

Hajime traced Tooru’s nose with his finger, “What?”

“My Um-be-rella-ella-ella – OW! Don’t nip me, Iwa-chan!”

“Then stop singing that crappy song!”

Tooru smiled, just as he had on Hajime’s tenth birthday, and although it was early and most people’s voices would have croaked with underuse, he drew Hajime down to him.

_“When the sun shines, we shine together,”_ he sang, husky with the early hour. _“Told you I'll be here forever.”_ __  
  


 “Make it stop,” Hajime groaned. “It’s horrible!”

“Iwa-chan, rude,” Tooru scolded, but softly. “It’s a beautiful song. ‘ _Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we still have each other_ _.’”_

“Eh, eh, eh!” Hajime growled, and started to kiss him, telling himself it was to shut Oikawa up.

Tooru nudged him away, his eyes clouding. “I know it’s just a song, but we do, don’t we?”

“Do what?” he asked, nipping Tooru’s shoulder again.

“Have each other,”  Tooru whispered.

Hajime blinked, recognising the old insecurities flooding Tooru’s tone, although he hadn’t heard them for a while. “Yeah .. sure. Course we do!”

“Only last year …” He chewed the side of his mouth. “It didn’t rain at all. And I felt as if we’d broken, or been gusted away like my old alien umbrella.”

“We mended,” Hajime mumbled, sniffing. “And not just with crappy sellotape. Rain and storms, they’re kind of us, don’t you think.”

 “Maybe we need the rain,” Tooru agreed, and kissed Hajime’s nose. “Because it makes us appreciate the sunshine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you liked that. And now I need to find time to write a fic for Suga!
> 
> The song is obviously Umbrella from the amazing Rihanna, which I was humming along to and then realised what the lyrics were actually saying. It's such an IwaOi song!


End file.
